Mrs. Johnson watched as Aoife knelt on the ground, knocking her head, her nose tingling with emotion. How she wished her son Ethan was still alive.
She walked over, knelt beside Aoife, took out a pack of tissues from her bag, and gently wiped the blood off Aoife’s face.
“Ethan always wanted you to be well, asked me and his father not to make things difficult for you. You’re a good girl. Thank you for spending happy times with Ethan.”
After speaking, Mrs. Johnson handed the tissue to Aoife and then stood up, linking arms with Mr. Johnson as they left.
Aoife clutched the tissue tightly in her hand, watching as Mr. and Mrs. Johnson walked away. Despite the cold night wind, Aoife felt no chill. She stood up from the ground and approached Ethan’s grave.
Placing the baby’s breath she had bought in front of Ethan’s grave, she lit a candle and began burning paper money one by one. The flickering firelight illuminated her face, casting a bleak silhouette that seemed to vanish into the darkness.
“Ethan, I’ve come to see you,” Aoife finally spoke softly after a long silence by the grave.
Her voice was soft, almost ethereal in the cold wind, as if it would dissipate with a gust of wind.
In the moonlit night, a solitary figure, soul shattered, gazed at Ethan in the photo on the tombstone. He wore a white shirt, a wide smile on his lips, a faint dimple, a smile she hadn’t seen in a long time.
The tombstone bore only five words – Ethan’s Grave, marking the end of his short life.
She took out her phone, there was no note of Ethan’s number in the contact list, but Aoife remembered his number by heart, no need for notes to dial it.
She dialed the number, and soon a cold system voice answered from the other end.
“I’m sorry, the number you dialed is not in service…” After Ethan’s death, the phone had been deactivated.
Aoife’s nose tingled, tears streaming down her face. How she longed to hear Ethan’s voice again, to hear him call her “Aoife.”
Aoife looked at the burning paper money, speaking to the grave, “Save up some money down there, when I come, we’ll build a house together. There are plenty of places to spend money, I promised to marry you in life, and even in death, I will marry you, Ethan, I’m coming to marry you.”
She reached out and touched the picture on the tombstone, tears falling one by one.
Finn called, but Aoife didn’t answer. He kept calling until the third call when Aoife finally stepped out of the cemetery and picked up.
“How much longer until you come back?”
“Finn, I’m not coming back.”
“What do you mean?” Finn’s voice trembled, filled with fear and dread.
“I mean, I’m going to find Ethan.”
Finn’s mind reeled, terrified by Aoife’s words, feeling as if winter had arrived even though it was still autumn. He shouted sternly, “I forbid it! Aoife, don’t do something foolish, I’m begging you…”
Aoife’s laughter echoed through the phone before it was abruptly hung up, leaving an eerie silence that revealed the sound of a beating heart.
As she hung up the call, Aoife gazed up at the stars in the sky, planning her own death, a death that would haunt Finn with regret and pain for the rest of his life.
Standing in a blind corner on the side of the road, she waited quietly, a smile on her face.
She waited and waited… finally hearing the sound of a car approaching, headlights brightening the darkness. Aoife knew it was Finn.
Facing the blinding headlights, she resolutely rushed towards the brightest light…
-“Finn, I’ve gone to find Ethan.”
At the moment Aoife hung up the phone, Finn’s heart felt as if it were being squeezed, tighter and tighter. He realized then that Aoife’s behavior that day was peculiar – first burying the ashes of a child in her hometown beside her grandmother’s grave, then returning wanting to go to Ethan’s grave. Her quiet demeanor along the way indicated she was planning for her eventual departure.
Why did he only notice now?
He should never have left Aoife alone or let her go to Ethan’s grave by herself, away from his sight.
He had kept a close eye on her before, locking her in the house. Why had he let her go now?
If… if something happened to Aoife, he would never forgive himself. He dared not think any further as he hastily turned the car, stepping on the gas pedal, the car speeding away like an arrow released from a bow. The window open, the noisy wind in his ear, as if someone was crying…
Accidentally leaving the high beams on, the blinding light caught Finn off guard. As he turned the corner, he never expected a figure to suddenly appear in front of his car, without any warning.
A loud bang, deafening, the car shook violently. Finn gripped the steering wheel tightly, slamming on the brakes. Due to inertia, he was thrown forward, hitting his forehead on the steering wheel, the buzzing in his head drowned out all other sounds.
For a moment, Finn thought he was dreaming, but the throbbing pain in his head reminded him that this was all too real.
In a semi-conscious state, Finn opened his eyes, the sight of blood staining his vision, a mixture of his blood and Aoife’s.
This image, like a scorching iron, was seared into his memory, never to be forgotten.
The windshield cracked like a spider web, Aoife in her favorite white dress, like a white butterfly caught in a spider’s web, her body rolling out of the car, before finally falling heavily to the ground.
She was like a piece of cracked crystal, fragile, ready to shatter at the slightest touch.
“No…” Finn choked out a word, his hand quivering as it touched Aoife’s bloodied face. Then, he broke down, roaring, “No, no, this can’t be happening, Aoife… don’t die, you can’t die…”
Finn, trembling, reached out to open the car door, but no matter how he tried, it wouldn’t budge. Frantically pressing the car lock, the door finally opened, sending him tumbling out of the car, crawling to Aoife.
Her pristine white dress now stained with blood, like bright red roses blooming in the dark.
In that moment, a seemingly inconspicuous blade of grass transformed into a radiant rose, blooming at life’s end, brief yet breathtaking.
In the serene world, only the sound of the wind weeping, as if echoing someone’s cry… no, there truly was someone crying.
Finn had seen Aoife in countless scenarios, but he had never seen her lying in a pool of blood, so fragile. He didn’t even know how to hold her without causing further harm.
Aoife, like a fragile piece of cracked crystal, poised to shatter with the slightest touch.
Finn groaned as he touched Aoife’s bloodied face, her skin as cold as the autumn night. “Please, don’t give up, Aoife… don’t leave me,” he pleaded as tears streamed down his face, mingling with the blood around them.